


Hair On Fire

by havetaoque



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Hair, dorocha, old fic, re-post, torches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 10:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11689626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havetaoque/pseuds/havetaoque
Summary: With all their torch-wielding, it's a wonder the knights never set themselves on fire.





	Hair On Fire

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written in 2011 and originally posted on LJ and Ffn. I recently went back to update my LJ masterlist and discovered that while I had been gone (since 2012) the Russians had apparently taken over and imposed anti-LGBTQ terms and such. So now I am in the process of purging my LJ, finally moving to my dreamwidth (havetaoque) to reunite with whatever's left of the Merlin fandom, and re-posting the last fic exclusively on LJ here, on the lovely AO3. I also made a Twitter account? I don't know what to do with Twitter, but follow @havetaoque for fic updates and stuff.

Merlin always thought it was a miracle that none of the knights ever set their hair on fire with all of their torch-wielding glory. Really, it was almost too good to be true. Something had to give.  
  
And it was then, just as the Dorocha began to descend upon the knights, that Merlin realized this would be the day –er night. He was grateful in advance that he had short hair.  
  
Sir Gwaine and Sir Leon were not quite as fortunate.  
  
The Dorocha were shrieking. In the abandoned courtyard, Percival rushed toward the knights, a pile of wooden debris in his arms. A tight circle was made, torches jutting out like fiery spines.  
  
Ahoooooooooooo!  
  
Leon swung his torch wide, snuffing out the onslaught of ghosts. Lancelot and Gwaine stepped up beside him against the second wave. The Dorocha were coming, soaring in eerie circles around the clustered knights. Arthur raised his torch against another Dorocha when a cry pierced the thick air around them. It wasn't a Daracha scream.  
  
"My hair!" Gwaine was slapping at his head furiously where his hair was up in flames. Arthur jerked the torch away, thrusting it into an oncoming ghost. "Help!" Gwaine dove out of the circle of knights, catching Leon on the way and setting his hair on fire as well. The two knights blundered into the courtyard trying to smother the flames that were licking their fine locks. Gwaine dropped to the ground, frantically rolling about like a disgruntled log. The torches were extinguished in the ensuing mayhem. Meanwhile, the Daracha fled at this strange display of arson, leaving the knights in the dark.  
  
When morning finally came and the full extent of the cosmetic damage was visible Gwaine wouldn't stop glaring at Arthur and Leon wouldn't stop glaring at Gwaine.  
  
Sir Gwaine and Sir Leon were left with singed hair and blistering scalps. Leon's beard seemed horribly out of proportion without his rusty hair to balance out his head. Gwaine pouted and refused to look at any of the other knights.  
  
"Hey," Merlin said, doing his best to remain optimistic. "It could be worse." This was met with more glares. "You could be dead."  
  
Everyone groaned and said, "Merlin. Shut. Up."

  
  
  
The night settled over the forest without a sound. Merlin rubbed his hands together to ward off the chill. Leon, Percival, and Elyan hovered near their makeshift fire pit, feeding bits of fuel into the flames. Several unlit torches were propped against a nearby tree. Gwaine crouched by the river under the pretence of quenching his thirst, but everyone knew what he was really up to.  
  
"Gwaine, you look fine."  
  
"Fine?" Gwaine raised his head from where he had been studying his reflection. "Fine! Arthur, my head looks like… a wildoren's skin."  
  
Arthur huffed and quirked his mouth apologetically.  
  
"It's not as bad as Leon," Arthur replied under his breath. He cast a furtive glance at the knight in question. Leon had shaved his beard since he looked absurd with facial hair and bald head. Now he had a bald head and a bald face.  
  
Gwaine rose from the stream bed, dusting off his hands. "If my hair doesn't grow back, there will be hell to pay, princess." He traipsed off without another word, leaving Arthur rolling his eyes. But the prince was silently wary – who knew what Gwaine would do.  
  
Lancelot settled down beside Merlin and prepared to take the first watch. The last, stray bits of light vanished, and with them went any feelings of safety the knights had harboured. Edginess set in amongst them all as the light faded and the trees became darker shapes amid a dark wood.  
  
The fires were burning low when the first shriek pierced the air. Merlin was on his feet in an instant, a torching springing to life with a muttered word. He glanced around, searching for the telltale white wisps of the Daracha. Lancelot sat up beside him, groping for a torch. The rest of the knights were still asleep, but not for long. A second scream rent the air and everyone jerked awake as though they were controlled by puppeteer strings.  
  
Gwaine shoved a torch into the fire, stirring the embers, and igniting the cloth. The first Dorocha descended, heading for Sir Leon whose bald head glowed faintly in the firelight. Elyan swung his torch at the spirit and it vaporised. The knights clustered around the fire pit again, back to back.  
  
With what he felt was an extremely sneaky motion, Gwaine manoeuvred himself beside Arthur, holding his torch aloft.  
  
"There!" Gwaine shouted, swinging wildly. Arthur ducked the flaming brand, searching for the Daracha Gwaine had seen, but saw nothing. He glared at the knight and his glare was returned with a deceptively innocent grin.  
  
The woods grew eerily still and Merlin held his breath, feeling quite powerless with only a flaming stick in his hand. He whispered as much to Lancelot and the knight reminded him that the "stick" was really a torch. Torch sounded more badass.  
  
"Behind you!" Gwaine yelled again, swinging his torch. It caught Arthur's shoulder, sending him stumbling out of the circle. Merlin was at his side in an instant, but he quickly backed off when the flames began licking the prince's hair.  
  
Arthur's eyes bulged in pain and he began batting at his head in a manner that would most definitely not be described as frantic. "Gwaine!" He shouted, rounding on the knight. His fist connected neatly with Gwaine's chin. Gwaine jerked out of the way, the torch flying out of his hands in the process.  
  
It hit Lancelot on the head and his black hair immediately began smoking. Merlin backed away from the knights, not caring that he didn't have a torch with him. At the moment, it seemed better to keep away from torches.  
  
Lancelot made a face that would have been absurdly funny in other circumstances. Gwaine still laughed as Lancelot smothered the flames and even offered to slap his head for him. Gwaine's offer was declined with Lancelot's cool eloquence that did not involve screaming and death threats.  
  
The Dorocha, once more, fled the scene, screeching until their nonexistent throats were hoarse. This could potentially pose a problem in the future, since the knights usually counted on being able to hear their foes before they saw them as fair warning. But you can't have everything.  
  
By the end of the night, Lancelot and Arthur were sulking on the forest floor. Gwaine was looking a bit sheepish, but his otherwise flippant personality overtones were taking precedence. Leon looked at his prince with sympathy and Elyan and Percival sat back to back, glad they had short hair. Merlin huddled against a tree, more than aware of the fact that he was the sole person who had a sizeable amount of hair. It was going to be a long night.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ and FFn in 2011.


End file.
